


Every Shadow is You

by HorseCrazyWriter76



Series: Experiment 2318 Endings [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Injury(non-graphic), cartoons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21939307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorseCrazyWriter76/pseuds/HorseCrazyWriter76
Summary: Where Virgil escaped firstThis is an alternate ending to a fic titled Experiment 2318. It will not make sense if you do not read at least through chapter 11.
Relationships: Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Series: Experiment 2318 Endings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569304
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Anxiety could feel himself shaking, as he pushed open the door. His heart pounded in his ears and threatened to leap out of his dry throat. Every sound was Deceit coming to check on them. Every shadow was a trap laid to thwart him. He crawled up a set of stairs and in to a new room. He shied away from the snake and crept through another door. He pushed open a heavy door, squinting at the bright light. The warmth dug under his skin.

Outside. Outside. Outside.

The giddiness from escape fueled his steps as he darted away from the building and in to the grass, feeling it prickle his feet. He ran down a wooden walkway and felt the sand under his feet, running with his feet in the water. He was sure if he could yell for joy he would have. He finally stopped, breathless, and sat at the edge of the water. The water lapped at the edge of his feet, and wind whipped around his hair. He just sat there, watching the sun and reveling in its not-cold on his skin. He was not-cold to the point of it being too not-cold. He needed a better word for that. He was sure there was a word, but he didn’t know it.

_-Come on, Ev, there’s an art show today, and you said you’d take me!_

_-An outdoor art show._

_-Yeah?_

_-It’s too hot to be outside._

_-Oh, come on, it’s 98 degrees, practically winter._

_He groaned._

_-How have you lived in Florida all 16 of your laps around the sun and not gotten used to the heat?_

_-There’s this glorious thing called air conditioning._

_-Get off your butt and let’s go. We’re gonna be late.- She kicked him._

_-Oh no, I’ve been kicked. I believe you’ve killed me._

_-Come on._

_-Fine, get in the car. I’ll be down in five._

_She dragged him to his feet, and he followed her downstairs._

Anxiety blinked, grabbing handfuls of sand. He was Anxiety. He wasn’t Ev.

He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t.

“Hey, I’m going to need you to focus on my voice. Can you do that for me?”

Anxiety pushed his tears away with his arm, nodding without quite knowing what he was agreeing to.

“Great! You’re doing a good job already. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Anxiety felt his throat closing off his access to air.

“It’s okay! Can you tell me five things you can see?”

Anxiety pointed to the sand, the ocean, the sky, the man in front of him, and his legs.

“Can you tell me four things you can feel?”

Anxiety pointed to the sand again, the gown he was wearing, made a vague motion to indicate the wind, and the sun.

“Can you show me three things you can hear?”

Anxiety pointed to the man, made a vague motion to indicate the wind again, and pointed to the ocean.

“Can you show me two things you can smell?”

Anxiety pointed to the ocean and the stain on his gown from breakfast that still smelled faintly of butter.

“Can you tell me one thing you can taste?”

There was the faint taste of throw-up in his mouth, but he didn’t really know how to indicate that, so instead he shrugged.

“Did you think of something you can taste?”

He nodded.

“Okay. I’m Emile. Can you talk?”

Anxiety shook his head.

“Do you know ASL?”

Anxiety looked up at the man. He seemed worried. Anxiety couldn’t imagine the man hurting him. Anxiety nodded.

“Okay, that’s good. My friend is over there. He knows ASL, too. Is it okay if he comes over and helps us talk?”

Anxiety looked to where Emile indicated. A man with sunglasses stood sipping something from a cup. He looked back to Emile and tentatively nodded. Emile waved the man over, and he jogged up, sitting down between them.

“Whaddup, buttercup?”

“They can’t speak.”

 _Hearing?_ The man signed, and it took a second for the sign to click in Anxiety's mind.

_Yes._

“But they can hear us. I guess I’m translating?”

“If you could?”

“‘Course I can, babes.”

_I’m R-E-M-Y, coffee with r._

_Four._

_Is that your age?_

_Name._

_Age?_

_One._

_Girl?_

_Boy. You boy?_

_Yes._

_Them boy?_

_Yes._

“He says his name is Four and he’s one year old,” Remy said, his eyebrows creasing.

“Where are your parents?” Emile asked, his face staying neutral.

_No._

_You don’t have parents?_

_Yes._

“He says he doesn’t have any,” Remy said, glancing over at Emile.

“Where do you live?” Emile asked.

_Don’t go there._

“He says ‘Don’t go there.’”

“Okay, we won’t go there, but can you tell us who you live with?”

_One, Two, Three, Deceit._

“One, Two, Three, and what I’m guessing is a sign for a name.”

“Okay. Okay. Is everything okay there?”

_No! Don’t go there. Don’t make me go there._

“He says not to go there or make him go there,” Remy said, his face morphing into something more than worry.

“It’s okay, we won’t make you go anywhere right now. We can stay right here on the beach. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” Emile said, taking a deep breath. Anxiety copied him.

“Okay, good job. Is this a case of a run-away Fire Kingdom prince?”

Anxiety shrugged.

“Have you watched Avatar: The Last Airbender?”

Anxiety shook his head.

“What cartoons do you watch?”

_What are C-A-R-T-O-N-S?_

“He doesn’t know what cartoons are,” Remy said.

“TV shows? Youtube maybe?”

Anxiety shook his head.

“Okay. You did such a good job telling me. Do you think we can go talk to the police?”

_He huddled in the corner with the rest of the class. The teacher turned off the lights and pulled down the purple paper that blocked the view of the room, then moved to close the blinds, closing off the bright Florida sun. Footsteps sounded down the hallway. The door handle jingled and a police officer stepped in to the room._

_-Remember to lock the door-. He told the teacher and stepped out. The teacher locked the door. His heart pounded in his chest. What if that hadn’t been a drill? What if he had been shot? Could the ambulance get there in time? What if the shooter shot off the hinges to the door? He couldn’t let that happen. Could he stop it?_

“Four, can you hear me? Four?”

Anxiety’s gaze snapped up to meet Emile’s.

“Can you breathe with me?”

Anxiety nodded, and Emile began to lift and lower his hand, breathing in along with lifting it and breathing out along with lowering it. Anxiety followed it.

“Good job. Do you know what happened?"

Anxiety couldn’t let him know. Normal people didn’t have the memories of people they weren’t, right?

_No._

“Okay, do you think we can go to a law enforcement office?”

Anxiety nodded.

*****

The law enforcement wasn’t helpful. They talked for a long time and suggested therapy. They looked in the records and didn’t find Anxiety. Of course they didn’t. They suggested more things. Emile asked Anxiety if he wanted to go home with him. He explained that he could be a part of their family. Anxiety said yes. Where else would he go?

*****

“Here we are! Home sweet home,” Emile chirped, swinging open the door to a narrow room. Anxiety forced himself to swallow and step in to the room. The door slammed closed, making him jump.

“We were debating about adopting a kid even before we found you, so we already have a room cleared out. It’s kind of plain, but I’ll drag a cot up there and we can get some more permanent furniture later,” Emile said, walking up a set of stairs. Anxiety followed him in to a small room. He looked out at the outside world. It had been a good glimpse of freedom. Maybe he could stay just until dinner and sneak out in the night. There was a platform that he could climb out on to and a pole with a basket he could slide down. He glanced back towards the door, but he was alone. Banging came up the stairs and he threw himself against the wall when the door swung open. Emile and Remy brought in a thing and unfolded it into a bed: a real bed. It wasn’t just a matress on the floor.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll order pizza and we’ll eat in like, half an hour,” Remy said, then they stepped out of the door, leaving him alone.

Anxiety crawled under the bed. The floor was made out of a different material that kind of hurt his elbows, but he wiggled himself in to a comfortable position. It didn’t take long before there was noises downstairs.

“Pizza’s here!” one of them called through the floor, Remy, he was pretty sure. It was quiet, then the door opened.

“Four?”

Anxiety watched as Emile walked in to the room and looked around, then crouched down and made eye contact with him.

“Hey, Four. The pizza’s here. Let’s go down and eat.”

Anxiety wiggled out from underneath the bed and followed him. Remy and Emile talked. They tried to get him to talk, but he only provided short answers to the questions he was asked. The food was good, and he watched as Emile pulled up a white rectangle and Remy moved around putting the pizza in small boxes and refrigerating it, throwing the large box away. He went in to another part of the house. Emile put the rectangle up after about an hour, seeming surprised to see him still there.

“Hey, do you want a book or something? Wait, I know, cartoons! Remy said you hadn’t seen any before, right?”

Anxiety nodded.

“Okay, let’s see, uh, my personal favorites are Avatar and Steven Universe, do either of those sound interesting?”

Anxiety shrugged.

“Do you have something else in mind?”

He shook his head.

“How about I set you up with Avatar:The Last Airbender?”

He shrugged.

A few minutes later Anxiety perched on the edge of a very soft chair while a rectangle blared lights and sounds. After he got over the weirdness of it all he tried to pay attention to the story. It was...okay. He didn’t really get it, but the parts he understood were funny and he thought he got the basics of what were happening. A couple playings of the same sequence and song later Emile turned off the tv and took him back to the room with the bed.

He waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore, then carefully started to move towards the outside world. He came up against a barrier. Come to think of it, he couldn’t smell, feel, or hear anything like he had earlier. He could only see it. He leaned against little white ledge that held dust and little white things. He flicked them out and in, then left them out. He liked the little change it made. He pushed on the white thing. It moved. He stumbled backwards in surprise, then looked around to see if Emile or Remy would come in. He pushed it farther up, the wind blowing past his hair. He pushed on the thin netting, and it moved away with a pop. He scrambled for it and laid it inside. He carefully pulled himself out of the opening and onto the roof. An alarm rang. He scrambled for the window, lost his hold, and slid back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve, Happy 3rd day of Hanukkah, Happy anything else being celebrated in this general time frame.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear diary,_

_Do not fall from the roof or break your leg. It’s not fun._

Anxiety looked down at the two lines on the page. It was so stupid. Emile and Remy had set up blankets and pillows on the big soft chair so that he could sleep downstairs. Emile had given him a journal, suggesting he write things down to help with his feelings or something. The lamp was on, and the crutches he had been given were leaning against the couch. It had taken a long time in the ER, as Emile called it, and he was tired, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. The rectangle that previously held the music and lights was dead. He watched the clock slowly carve its way through the night, unconsciousness slowly dragging him down.

Anxiety peeked open an eye when he felt a hand on his arm. A strange face filled his sight and he shot up, nearly hitting his head on the person’s face. He looked around, and the events of last night caught up to him.

_Sorry,_ he signed to Emile.

“There’s no need to be sorry; you woke up in a strange place. Breakfast is ready,” Emile soothed him.

Anxiety leaned over to grab his crutches and struggled to his foot. Breakfast was quieter than dinner. Remy left after breakfast after touching faces with Emile. Anxiety could feel an itch right under the plaster encasing his leg. He ignored it to the best of his abilities. Emile started taking away the dishes. Anxiety swung his legs, the toe on his good leg barely brushing the ground if he straightened out his foot. Emile sprayed a little plant on the window sill.

_"It’s a plant for your room, see? And it comes with this little bottle to water it with!"_

_"Cool." He didn’t think it was cool. He put it on his windowsill and gave it a few squirts of water with the silly little spray bottle._

“Four?”

_He watered it every day._

“Four, can you breathe with me?”

_It died less than a week after he got it._

Anxiety looked up at Emile. When had tears gotten in to his eyes? Emile was counting out a pattern, but Anxiety didn’t want to do it with him. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of the big shirt Emile had given him as temporary pajamas.

“Do you want to talk about what just happened?”

Anxiety shook his head. They ended up watching Avatar for the rest of the day. Anxiety didn’t exactly get why, but now that he saw more of the story he started to enjoy it more.

*****

The next day they all went out to a place with more stuff than there were atoms in Anxiety’s body. They let him pick out clothes that he liked. He found a black shirt with purple spider webs on it and a plain black hoodie. Emile and Remy encouraged him to get some more, so he got a duplicate of the hoodie, a plain black shirt, and a shirt with a skeleton cat on it. He picked up a pair of sweatpants, and, at the prompting of Emile, two pairs of black shorts. They got more things, although Anxiety let Emile and Remy choose basically everything else. He glanced around at the other people in the place. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his eyes landed on someone with a facial scar, but they were just some random person, not Deceit.

Not Deceit. Not Deceit. Not Deceit.

_He looked at the person. White and brown mixed together in patches on their skin._

Not Deceit. Not Deceit. Not Deceit.

What about Logic and Creativity and Morality? They were Not Deceit.

_His hands were covered in the blood of his cat. She had just been run over._

“In, 2, 3, 4, hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,” Emile counted. Anxiety looked up and tried to copy. It took a few tries for him to slow his breathing enough to make it all the way through the holding and out counts. Somehow he had ended up on the floor. People were staring at them. Anxiety didn’t want to be there anymore.

“There you go, how about we go wait in the car while Remy checks out?”

Anxiety nodded, only registering that they were leaving. He curled into a ball in the backseat of the moving room, what Emile had called a car. When they went back into the room with the soft chairs he stayed awake only long enough to get on to the big soft chair.

*****

Life slowly settled in to a rhythm. Get up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, watch cartoons, eat lunch, do puzzles, eat dinner, do something with Remy and/or Emile, brush teeth, sleep. Remy and Emile left to work a lot, leaving him there. They always left a lunch for him, but a lot of times he forgot to eat it. They suggested he spend the day with someone named Remus a couple times, but the name never failed to bring up false memories. A little while in the three of them sat down and picked a name and birthday for Anxiety, which ended up being Virgil and December 19th respectively. It took Virgil a while to get used to calling himself Virgil, but he liked it better than Anxiety.

_-Hey, Virgil._

_-Hi, Remy._

_-Have you ever gone to school?_

_-No._

_-Do you want to go to school?_

_-No!_

_-Is there a reason?_

Of course there was a reason. Virgil had enough false memories of school to last him a life time: long classes, being called on in class, being expected to work in groups, being expected to give presentations. Of course, he just replied with a shake of his head.

_Can you go to school?_

_Yes, no… I don’t think so._

That was only the first talk that brought up school. There were many after, until eventually they arrived at the solution of getting a tutor for a year and seeing if he was okay with going in the next year. It ended up being okay, although he missed getting to laze around every day. The cast got taken off of his leg, and he started spending more time in his room. On December 19th he found three little wrapped boxes with his name on them on the table. He looked up to where Remy was finishing breakfast.

“Happy birthday, V,” he said, “Open ‘em up. Just remember the one I bought is the best.”

Virgil slowly opened the first box, from Emile. A figure of Lapis Lazuli looked back up at him. The second box was from Thomas, the tutor. It was a a book of poems. He looked through it, smiling at the little drawings that accompanied each of them. He opened the box from Remy, revealing a little plastic spider tape dispenser. He took them back to his room and set the figure on his windowsill and the other two gifts on his bedside table. He ran back down for breakfast.

_-Thank you. When’s your birthday?-_ He signed to Remy, who was setting down the food.

“January 16th.”

_Emile?_

“December 16th.”

Virgil thought back to four days ago where the three of them had ‘gone out for dinner’ and Remy had given Emile a small box wrapped in colorful paper. Emile came down and they ate. Today was one of the days where neither of them had work, and Emile declared a Steven Universe marathon. Virgil settled on to the far end of the couch. He jumped when sometime during the 2nd episode an arm landed around his shoulders, and Remy moved his arm away. Virgil grabbed it back, and Remy put it back with a tiny huff of laughter. By the time they decided to stop Virgil had found his way in to the nook between Remy’s side and arm.

Emile turned off the tv, and they sat there together.

_Morality would love this._

A tiny tear fell from his eye. He buried his face in Remy’s chest. He felt Emile put an arm around him, as more tears leaked out from his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Virgil forced himself out of the car and in to the throng of students. It was his first day of school, but he’d already had a chance to see and walk his schedule, and the process of the first day had been explained to him. He would go up to his advisory class, and the teacher would hand out a hard copy of his schedule and go over the processes, then they would quickly walk through every class. He wasn’t ready in the slightest, but somehow he found himself in a desk in the right class anyways.

He looked down at the paper the teacher had handed him. Math Pre-AP, SCORES, gym, and art were outlined as his A-day classes, then science Pre-AP, ELA Pre-AP, ASL I, and history Pre-AP as his B-day classes. It was only 7 and a half hours. He had been learning all this stuff before, now he was just in a classroom with 25 to 35 other people learning the same thing and 9 different people showing him the stuff. He dug the stress ball Emile had given him for something called Hanukkah. Virgil didn’t get it, like many things, but he enjoyed lighting the candles and had made little gifts for Emile, Remy, and Thomas once Emile explained what the holiday was about and how it was celebrated. When he went up to his room he thought about how Morality and Creativity would love making presents for everyone and Logic would try to figure out how the oil that was supposed to last for one day could actually last for eight days.

Right, he wasn’t focusing on that right now. Right now he had 7 hours of listening to people and figuring out how school worked to go. He twisted the little foam ball in his hands, as the teacher explained the schedule.

School was...okay. He was mostly bored, but no fake memories tried to push their way through, so he counted that as a win. ASL looked like it would be easy for him, too. His least favorite part was passing periods where everyone seemed to collaborate to try and make him specifically late for class.

“How was your first day?” Remy asked, as Virgil buckled his seatbelt.

_It was okay._

“Any monstrous teachers who assigned homework the first day?”

_Some S-Y-L-L-A-B-U-S-E-S_

“Ready to go back tomorrow?”

_No._

Remy laughed and started driving. Virgil cracked the window and looked out, enjoying the wind on his face.

*****

Virgil pushed away from the table, his chair clattering to the floor. He slammed his pencil down on top of the last problem on the worksheet. Emile looked up from where he was typing away at his laptop.

“Finished?” He asked with a smile.

_Yes, can I go outside?_

“Uh, yes, I, outside, uh, yes, can I go outside?”

Virgil nodded that Emile had translated it correctly.

“Math was your only homework, right?”

_Yes._

“Of course you can go outside! Just remember dinner’s in half an hour.”

Virgil gave him a thumbs up and pushed open the back door. It was the end of February, so it was a still a bit chilly, but his hoodie kept him comfortably warm. He fished his phone out of his pocket and took a photo of the sky. The sun had just set, and its rays still stained the edge of the horizon. Almost all of his camera roll was pictures of the sky with a few pictures of memes or something he found interesting interspersed within them. He wondered what Logic would have to say on them. His finger hovered over the button for the browser.

Evan Sanders had written a lot of things. He seemed to mostly focus on psychology. There was nothing in his writings that even suggested the presence of Virgil, Creativity, Morality, or Logic.

He saved the address of Deceit’s lab on his phone. His heart tried to break out of his ribcage, and he could feel memories, true memories, trying to burst forward. He started to count the stars. He knew there were gazillions of more stars that weren’t visible to him. He couldn’t even count the ones he could see. Couldn’t...couldn’t...couldn’t

When Emile came out to get Virgil for dinner he found him curled into a ball in the grass.


	4. Chapter 4

The lab looked very different from the outside and in daylight. This was his second attempt to approach the lab. The first time he had been driven back by a false memory of first getting the building. He raised a fist and knocked on the door, then darted behind the slight curve of the building. The door swung open, and Deceit stepped out, shrugged, and went back in. Virgil quickly shoved a small rock in between the frame and the door to keep it from locking. He waited, then carefully edged the door a sliver open. The room was empty. He withdrew and sent his location to Remy and Emile with shaking hands and dropped his phone in to a small bush. He pulled the door open and slid under a table.

It had been over a year since he had last been in the lab, and a single adrenaline-fueled run was not the best thing to remember a route by, but even as he wondered where to go he darted through a door and found himself in a hallway that was all too familiar. He pulled on the handle, but it didn’t give. A second look revealed a lock that he easily turned, and he stepped in to the room. Three faces turned to him in sync. Logic held a half-solved rubix cube. Creativity held a broken crayon. Morality held a picture book.

“Who are you?”

_4_

“Black!” “Middle!” “Where’s Dr. Sanders?”

Three voices chorused at the same time. Virgil pointed up, then put a finger to his lips and motioned for them to follow. They all did, trailing after him, as he lead the way towards the exit. Right in to Deceit’s path.

*****

The other rooms hadn’t changed at all except for the lock. Virgil pulled his hands in to the sleeves of his hoodie. It wasn’t that cold, but he somehow felt more secure with his hands hidden from view. He flipped his hood up for good measure. If he strained his ears he could hear Emile’s ringtone, That Distant Shore, but he was pretty sure his mind was just conjuring the familiar notes to comfort him. Maybe he should have learned how to pick locks or some sort of martial arts when he was outside.

He walked a circuit around the room, then switched directions and walked another. He laid down and tried to see under the tiny crack to the rest of the lab. His effort only revealed the plain grey of the wall.

He sang through That Distant Shore in his head.

He sang through Peace and Love on the Planet Earth in his head.

He paced the room.

He recited the opening to Avatar: The Last Airbender in his head.

He paced the room.

He wanted out. He wanted to go back to Remy and Emile. He never should have come. They didn’t look too bad. They had never wanted to leave. He wanted to sit on the couch watching cartoons. When had tears come to his eyes? Memories of Remy and Emile comforting him only brought more tears, which spiraled in to false memories until he managed to calm himself down. He pulled slightly on his hair, feeling the slight pain. That was real.

Remy and Emile would come, right? How long had it been? Could he be sure they were coming? Could he escape a second time? He just had to hope, right? He hated hoping. Hope was too fragile, and fear was too strong. He curled in to the corner. He wanted to hide under something, so he pulled himself fully in to his hoodie. The fabric smelled like laundry detergent, sweat, and home. For a moment he could imagine he was sitting on the counter at home while Remy and Emile were still asleep, watching the sun rise outside the window.

The door opened, and Virgil shot to his feet, nearly falling over in his struggle with his hoodie.

“It’s been a year,” Deceit said. Virgil watched him silently. An idea half-formed in his head. The door locked from the outside. The door had to be unlocked now, right? Maybe he could get out if he could just get between Deceit and the door. A phone started ringing. Deceit picked it up.

“I’m busy, Remus.”

There was a pause as Remus undoubtedly answered. Virgil inched towards the door. Deceit took a step back so that his back was against the door.

 _So much for that plan_ , Virgil grumbled in his head.

“What do they want?”

Whatever Remus said afterward made Deceit’s face pale.

“Why?”

There was another pause.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Deceit said and hung up, then said, half to himself, “They named you Virgil.”

Deceit grabbed Virgil’s hoodie sleeve as if touching Virgil’s skin was coated in poison. Virgil inched out of his hoodie, as they walked. He waited until they were almost out of the lab, then twisted his hoodie the rest of the way off of his body and bolted back down the stairs. He threw open the door and grabbed the arm of the first person he saw, Morality, and dragged him back up the stairs. Deceit hadn’t doubled back around, thankfully. Virgil shoved the door open with his shoulder and looked behind him. Both Creativity and Logic had followed. Virgil gave a sigh of relief as he saw Remy and Emile standing behind and to the side of a pair of police officers. He waved to them.

 _Are you okay?_ Remy signed.

 _Yes,_ Virgil signed back.

_Who are they?_

_1, 2, and 3._

_Siblings?_

_In a way. Talk later._

_Okay._

Virgil turned to face the police officer and Deceit, who didn’t seem to be able to cover for the existence of four identical children. Deceit got in to a car, and the police officers talked with Remy, Emile, and Remus, then got in the car and left.

“They’re like four mini Evans,” Remus said, glancing between their faces. Virgil winced at the comparison he had made himself far too many times.

_Hello, I’m R-E-M-Y Remy, this is E-M-I-L-E, you’re going to stay with us until all the legal stuff is sorted out. Hopefully after, too._

_They don’t sign_ , Virgil signed.

Remy repeated his spiel out loud.

“Will we return here?”

Remy was visibly surprised by Logic’s voice.

“Hopefully not, but there’s no way to tell,” Emile said, glancing at the building.

“Okay. Can I ask you questions?”

“Of course!” Emile replied.

“Is that grass?” Logic asked, pointing to a shrub.

“That’s a bush, beautyberry, I think,” Emile replied easily, then pointed to the grass, “That’s grass.”

Logic’s hand brushed along the leaves of the beautyberry bush and the grass, then Logic followed Virgil in to the car.


	5. Chapter 5

They had to return to the lab a couple times, but it was always in the company of court people and police officers who asked questions and never shut the doors, much less locked them. It was a long process, but finally it was decided that all of them were staying with Remy and Emile.

They shuffled furniture around until they had Virgil and Logic, now called Logan, in Virgil’s room, Remy and Emile still in their room, and Creativity, now called Roman, and Morality, now called Patton, in what had previously been the computer room.

Logan’s chosen birthday was the closest to when they escaped. Virgil managed to sneak balloons in to their room and got him a poster of the periodic table of elements, which Virgil was fairly sure Logan had already half-memorized. Emile and Remy gave him a little ticket that promised they would go to a furniture store and pick out stuff for the room. Roman and Patton complained that they hadn’t known it was a thing, and both created drawings for Logan by the end of the day, which were the first two things to go up on the corkboard Logan picked to hang above his bed.

Emile’s birthday was next. Virgil alerted the other three to Emile’s birthday, and Emile woke to a breakfast in bed from Patton, a clean kitchen and a succulent from Remy, a homemade Appa plushie from Roman(In Virgil’s opinion it looked more like Sokka’s attempt at drawing a badgermole than Aang’s flying bison, but Emile loved it), a novel from Logan, and a cat tape dispenser Virgil had painted pink and stuck pom poms around the edge of with a note that it was supposed to be Lion from Steven Universe.

Virgil’s birthday was next. Remy or Emile had clearly told Logan, Roman, and Patton, because Patton and Remy came down early, and Patton yelped when he saw Virgil sitting on the counter.

_What are you doing?_ Remy asked.

_Watching the sun rise._

_Why are you awake?_

_I’m always awake now._

_You need more sleep._

_I get my 6 hours._

_8 hours. It’s 8 hours, Virgil._

_Close enough. You can make me breakfast, and I’ll pretend to be surprised._

“He says we can make him breakfast, and he’ll pretend to be surprised. I think we just need to make it extra good, what do you think, Pat?”

“Yeah! Now you better get your feet off of the counter,” Patton replied, gently batting at Virgil’s feet. Virgil slipped off of the counter and went outside to watch the sun rise. When he came back in 5 presents were piled neatly on the table along too many pancakes for all of them to eat. He smiled, as Remy and Emile sang him happy birthday, accompanied by Roman and Patton’s good and bad attempts at harmonization. Logan got him a flash drive of audiobooks. Roman got, or rather made, him a black hoodie with purple patches on it. Patton got him a card that sang. Emile got him a figure of Steven. Remy got him a book about ghosts. Virgil laughed at the anonymous pair of glasses he knew had to be a joint gift because only Logan, Roman, and Patton would know he needed glasses and what rough prescription he had, and only Remy and Emile could get them. He hid them in his room; he never wanted to wear glasses. Virgil still felt like he was filled with helium the entire day.

Virgil wasn’t quite sure this was a good idea, but he was there anyways. It was Patton’s birthday, and Logan had decided that cooking couldn’t be that hard, especially if Patton could do it. Virgil had pointed out that Remy helped Patton cooked, and Logan had dragged Virgil in to helping him. It had gone reasonably well so far. The cake was in the oven and the batter tasted good when Virgil licked the spoon they had used for mixing. Logan was determinedly mixing icing together. The oven beeped: one minute left on the clock. Virgil looked at it, then realized they had no way to get the cake out of the oven. He tapped Logan.

_Cake, oven, hot, hurt_ , he signed, hoping that the signs would register. Logan still wasn’t very good at signing, but he was getting better.

“Uh, cake, hurt, uh, oh! Remy uses rubber things, uh, where are they?”

They barely managed to find the things in time for the timer to go off. Virgil pulled the cake out of the oven. The finished cake was listing slightly and half-crumbled, but Patton’s face made it clear that he didn’t care. In the evening they banished Remy upstairs while everyone pitched in to make a cake for Remy’s birthday. It was a bit squished in the kitchen, but everyone was satisfied with the finished product. Remy said it was his favorite gift of all.

Roman’s birthday finally came, and Virgil had heard of something called pieing in the intervening months. He made a nice gift of a plush of Cinderella, of course; he couldn’t be that mean, but he also helped out in the kitchen a bit more so that by the time it was June he was pretty sure he could make a pie crust and fill it with whipped cream. He slipped down early in the morning and set about his preparations. Roman was always the last one up, but he was pretty sure the others wouldn’t approve. Well, Emile and Patton would disapprove. Remy would find it humorous, and Logan would probably be intrigued by the phenomenon.

In the end he chickened out and explained it to Roman who loved the idea and let him pie him on the condition that he could pie Virgil back on his birthday. Emile tried to stop them after the pie was already in motion and ended up wearing a good portion of it, too. They all laughed, including Emile. Virgil’s cheeks and chest hurt from laughing and smiling, but he loved the feeling.


End file.
